A God In The Making
by Rieka De-Volka
Summary: First in the series, in which Joxer becomes Mischief and then more... and Ares tries to figure out things for himself. PreSlash.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Xena: Warrior Princess or Hercules: Legendary Journeys, but I do own Plot, Original Characters and everything else. Also, Greek Pantheon own themselves… and were quite loud at saying so._

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As Good As It Gets;  
A God In The Making…

The council of the Gods was in turmoil. This, per se, was not an unusual occurrence, considering the vast amount of frivolities and petty conflicts the Gods had with one another, but this time, the cause was almost unique.

Eris, twin sister of Ares, Goddess of Discord and Revenge, and unspoken Queen of Bondage… she had just announced her will to give up her Godhood.

The reactions had varied from joy (Athena and Artemis mostly), to shock (Apollo and Cupid were doing great impressions of fishes out of the water), to puzzlement (Aphrodite and Hestia), to utmost outrage (Ares and Zeus were at the head of that department).

The dark haired goddess sat in her throne, looking apathicaly at the great debate her words had caused, while her children, those of the House of War, looked at her confused. Strife, Phobos and Deimos wore identical blank looks, though she could feel hurt rolling off them in waves. She'd have to explain things to them later, mostly after Ares was done yelling himself hoarse at her. Her eyes traveled through the hall, silently feeding off the great amount of energy they were releasing, until they settled in her mother's. The Queen of the Gods was given her daughter a strange look of content, something Eris had never felt before.

Hera was supporting her decision.

It made her feel warmth, though, and it strengthened her determination to go along with what she had to do, despite the costs. Hera's lips twitched slightly, a ghost of a smile lighting up her features almost smugly for less than a second, before she tilted her head forward in acknowledge and acceptance. Then she became the stony Queen once more, and all emotion washed away from her face.

"_Silence!_" Zeus finally roared in anger, his voice shaking the very fundament of Olympus as all sound died out in less than a heartbeat. His eyes flashed dangerously, and no one dared to make a sound, some of them even holding their breaths, least they provoked his wrath. "Alright, _alright._ Let us all take a deep breath, consider things and take this calmly as the civilized, mature Gods we are," The God of Thunder ignored the minute, almost imperceptible snort that came from his wife at his proclamation and motioned everyone to take a deep breath with him. Once they were all sitting back and all shows of animosity and viciousness were reduced to mere glaring and/or sulking, he gave Discord a pointed look. "Now, would it be much to ask you to give a lengthy, convincing explanation for this? Preferably without insulting some or all of the present?"

"Hn," The dark haired goddess snorted and shrugged. "I'm married. And pregnant. And I'm just fucking tired of going around doing a fulltime job. Hell, he doesn't want me to, I don't want to. So easy way out? I give up this fucking Goddess business to someone who would actually want it, or be good at it, and end of story."

Her first two statements had gotten a graveyard silence to fall over the assembly, everyone trying hard to come up with the image of a man who would have not only managed to knock down the fearsome and rather fierce Discord Goddess but who had actually managed to marry with her. Marry. Part of Discord noticed with faint amusement that Athena looked like she was about to faint, and Aphrodite was two seconds from squealing in delight. It was Ares face, though, stormy and darkened, that worried her, as she could never predict what his brother was about to do. Surprisingly, he kept silent and brooding, dark eyebrows knit together in a scowl as he glared at her from across the table. Behind the aloof exterior she had been showing off to others, Eris' heart cringed with each new wave of hurt and resentment that came over her from her children. Deimos was angry, the way his knuckles were white as he held the leather of his shorts, eyes firmly casted in the table and refusing to move in the slightless. Phobos resented her, his eyes piercing at her almost viciously, his pointed black nails, almost claws, slowly digging into the polished surface of the richly served mahogany throne, his lips thinned in outrage. But it was Strife that was actually getting to her, the hurt rolling off him in waves. The dark haired God was looking at her like a whipped puppy, and even if she knew he would never dare to voice it… it was there. _Was it my fault?_

Eris was startled to realize, that for the first time in her life, she regret the pain she was causing others with her actions. Because her children loved her, deep down, beyond hundreds of years of misunderstandings and fights and betrayals, when it came down to it, they loved her. What awed her the most was that, in fact, she loved them too. But things had to be the way the Fates foretold, and though she knew it was cruel, none of them could know yet, until she had done everything she had been ordered too, until the new God for Olympus had been chosen.

But Gaia be damned, that didn't mean she had to like it!

"This is unexpected," Was all what Zeus could said, eyeing his daughter wearily. _Duh!_ She wanted to scream at him, _I could have told you that!_ Instead, she nodded, somehow managing to keep her face straight and completely impassive. "It is your right to give up your Godhood, of course, but the balance would be disrupted if another God or Goddess of Discord isn't found first and the ceremonies to transfer your power would be rather painful and dangerous in, well, your condition…" He trailed off uncertainly, in the almost twenty hundred years that made up her existence, never before had Discord asked or even talked in the council, and for her first announcement to be something like this… The King of the Gods decided to take a long winded vacation when the mess this was sure to create was over. He closed his eyes as he felt Hera's piercing glare on himself, clearly showing what she thought of the situation. He sighed. "Eris of Discord, your request will be taken upon conclave, and until a permanent replacement can be found, you are to remain in Olympus. Is this satisfactory?"

"Yes." Her voice was tightly controlled, not giving away anything of what she was feeling, her aloof façade firmly in place. She absolutely hated it.

"It is settled then. On the next full moon, the council will gather and the new Discord God will be chosen. Until then, you are not allowed to leave the Halls of War, Discord, and no word of this must leak out of this room. Dismissed." And he was gone before any protests could arise.

One by one the other Gods flashed away, in various degrees of annoyance and confusion, until only the House of War remained in the council room, all eyes fixed on the very silent Discord. Ares took a really deep breath, trying to find the rational part of his mind and holding onto it like a lifeline.

"Lets go home." He finally said with a heartfelt sigh and flashed them all back into the biggest temple in Olympus.

This, most certainly, was not turning to be a nice day.

* * *

There was once a Clumsy Warrior.

Joxer hummed his song under his breath, walking at a leisure pace behind his companions, lost in a contemplation of the beauty of autumn in Greece. He really ought to leave a few offerings in the next temple to Demeter they reached. Shaking his head from his musings, he managed to avoid a deep hole in the road, thus saving himself from a rather embarrassing fall in front of his friends, though they would, no doubt, chalk it up to his apparently natural clumsiness. The dark haired man sighed inwardly, and sped up to try and catch up with the chatter of his companions. His eyes fell on the red haired bard that walked only steps ahead of him, and a sad smile crossed his features.

Xena and Gabrielle had tried to hide it, but he knew they had been involved ever since they came back from their latest trip.

"…right Joxer?" Suddenly the short haired Amazon turned and her eyes met his, the blue depths sparkling with mirth as they sought his confirmation. Joxer blinked.

"What?" He stared blankly at her, guiltily wincing as she huffed in annoyance, smile forgotten as she marched ahead of them, leaving him standing in the middle of the road next to a very amused Xena.

"Leave it Joxer, you're better off not knowing." The Warrior Princess told him with a slight smirk, before she urged Argo to hurry up and catch up with the irritated bard.

Joxer stood in the middle of the road for a moment longer, his eyes watching them with a melancholic light before he sighed, his lips twisted wearily.

"Aren't I always?"

* * *

"…and for _what_? For _him_!" There was poison dripping from Ares' mouth as he spat the last word, dark eyes flaring up with anger. "I ought to-" The God of War worked himself a fury, and a coronary, as he yelled at his twin; her sons, Strife, Deimos and Phobos, stood by the wall, watching the action with various degrees of annoyance, hurt and anger.

"Ares," Eris finally said with a glare, making her brother stop. "Enough. Just… enough, alright?" She sighed, a hand coming up to rub the bridge of her nose as a headache built up. "I don't really _want_ to, alright? But there's half a hundred things going on right now… I… They told me I can't say anything about this to anyone, and that includes you. But I know I have to do this, alright? Just don't make it more difficult with that charming ability you have to absolutely screw things up."

"They?" Ares frowned, tactfully ignoring the insult in favor of her story. He had the sinking feeling he knew, but he couldn't help but ask. "Who?"

"Who else?" Discord snorted distastefully, rolling her eyes with flourish. "The Fates, of course." Then, she turned a pale, greenish shade. "Damn it!" She flashed out of the main hall, and the sounds of someone throwing up reached the four males, making the shudder.

"You know," Phobos said with an air of finality, crossing his arms in a surprisingly pouty gesture. "This fucking sucks."

His brothers and his uncle couldn't agree more, and he was certain neither could Eris, though he wasn't about going to ask her at the moment.

* * *

There was once a King of Thieves.

Autolycus sneaked around the temple, carefully avoiding the various guards posted in the strategical corners of the building. _Really, did Ares have to have so many warriors guarding this very temple?_ Pressing himself flat against a wall, he winced silently as the rough laughter from the closest post reached him, the crude jokes making him feel the need to roll his eyes. _And they just had to be tasteless brutes to add to it, right?_ Pressing his lips tightly in distaste, he waited for his opening, before he slid silently into the sacred hall, reserved specifically for Ares and his closest priests and worshipers.

The dark haired thief really didn't want to think about what being a _closest_ something to the God of War meant.

Shuddering inwardly, he let his ill feelings die as his eyes glinted, taking in the glorious prize among the other offerings in the altar. With a delighted sound, the dark haired thief went over and snatched the small dagger, hiding it within his cloths. It was a real piece of art, the blade was solid silver, while the handle was made of gold, with a rather large ruby crowning it. Certainly worthy of the payment he was expecting for his services.

_Now, to get outta here in one piece…_

* * *

The ceremony felt strange. The room felt strange. Even the air around them felt strange. Something cracked in the atmosphere, something magical, something fateful.

It was rather simple though, Eris was to bleed on the center of a large rune circle, each God present chanting part of the spell that would reveal the most compatible being to the power of Discord, thus selecting the perfect successor. The whole House of War was present as well as Aphrodite and Cupid from the House of Love, Athena and Hermes from the House of Intellect, Apollo and Artemis from the House of Light and finally Hera and Zeus directing the flow of energy.

Something unexpected happened.

The moment the chanting was over, the runes glowed, Discord's blood turned golden and Strife was sucked into the center of the circle with a badly hidden squeak. Landing ungracefully on his ass, the God of Mischief blinked startled and gave his mother a '_what in fucking Tartarus?'_ kind of look.

"What in fucking Tartarus?" Deimos and Phobos growled out as Strife made a nice impression of a fish.

"Today is not my day." Zeus hissed under his breath, looking around the hall annoyed.

Of course he should have seen this one coming. If it had been Aphrodite or Athena, or someone from another House, things would have been considerably easier, but not for his baby girl of the House of War. The elder God rubbed his temples in an attempt to sooth the headache and took a deep breath.

"Alright. This can be solved, not the end of the world yet." _But most certainly the end of my patience._ The King of the Gods motioned for silence, and begged the Fates to be merciful. "Strife will take over as God of Discord, and we will simply look for a replacement for him as God of Mischief."

"Whatever for?" Athena snorted, crossing her arms impatiently, giving the young God a bored look. "It is not as if Mischief was so important, he doesn't need a replacement."

The slightly lanky goddess regretted her words almost as she spoke them, coming to face with a surprisingly overprotective Ares and the piercing glare of Hera's peacock-feather eyes. The dark God of War pulled his lips back, revealing his teeth in a warning as he growled low on his throat. It was a well known fact that the Head of the House of War took personal insult to any backhanded comment to his charges, his Children, but Athena hadn't thought it went that far. And Hera… well, the Goddess of Wisdom felt as if her whole body was about to implode under the pressure of the heavy stare.

"There is a God of Mischief for a reason Athena," The Queen of the Gods said primly, lips held in a thin line as her eyes bored on her husband's daughter with a dark glare. "As there is a God of everything else. You, out of everyone should _know_ that. A proper replacement will be found for Strife, and that is final. Hopefully it will be a young Godling without an established godhood or a mortal that can easily be trained. Whichever will work this mess out rather nicely."

Every God present quickly remembered that there _was_ a higher authority in Olympus than Zeus, and said authority was not to be confronted. Or left waiting.

It took less than ten minutes to the circle to be drawn again and places to be taken for the ceremony to repeat itself. Athena, wisely, chose to stand farthest from Hera and Ares, instead putting up with Aphrodite. Strife bled, the rest chanted, and, again…

Something unexpected happened.

Strife had few, very few serious followers, mostly children and teenagers who liked to offer their pranks and adventures to the God, but few actually appreciated the true extent of his work, thus few understood it. He had been expecting his most loyal follower, somewhat a high priest of his, to be sucked into the circle. But oh no, the Fates were never that lovely.

As the poor mortal fell into the circle, sprawled over indignantly, he moaned, unconscious, and reassumed sleep. Suddenly the room tensed as Ares growled lowly in his throat.

"Strife," His voice was quiet, the same velvety tone he used before going into a killing spree, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Explain to me why my favorite follower is sprawled in the middle of the circle. Make it good, or I'm going to rip you apart, limb by limb." The way his uncle spoke the threat so calmly made Strife pale, looking a nice shade of green. He did the only reasonable thing to do.

He squeaked.

* * *

There was once a Warrior Princess.

Xena was not having a nice morning. Quite the opposite actually, in fact, she was starting to wonder if she had died in the night and was being tortured in the fiery depths of Tartarus.

Then again, Hades was not _that_ evil.

"…or perhaps a hag? Oh merciful Gods! Xena! What if he was taken by a hag! And he's being tortured slowly to reveal all of our secrets before they kill him in a sacrifice to some random strange, bloodthirsty evil God!"

_Or maybe he's just being Joxer and he went out for a walk and got lost, as usual._

"Or maybe he's just being Joxer and he went out for a walk and got lost, as usual." Catching sight of the furious death glare she was now subject to, Xena seriously regretted not having censored her own thoughts.

"How can you be so insensitive!" Gabrielle screeched like a fury, face flushed with anger. "Joxer must be lost somewhere, alone and scared, being tortured mercilessly by some nameless force and you can't bring yourself to care? Xena, how can you be so _cruel_!"

The dark haired warrior sighed, looking from his companion to the empty bedroll were their clumsy friend had gone to bed the night prior. Gabrielle continued with her rant on tragic and completely impossible outcomes. Xena sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Joxer had been having a nice, peaceful dream for once. Not that he dreamt terrible, foretelling things every night, but most of his dreams revolved around his brothers and the day they had been separated, and that wasn't exactly a pleasant scene. Or about Gabrielle, and those dreams were nice too, but not peaceful at all. No, this time he had been laying on a grass field, watching a blue sky and feeling content with the soft breeze that smelled of salt and ocean. He was trying to figure out the shape of a random fluffy cloud in the sky when he woke up, feeling like he was being sucked from his navel down into the ground, and he let out a small gasp. He didn't open his eyes, instead screwing them tightly as a woman screeched in the background, a male voice yelling back. Groaning, he turned away from the source of the noise, curling tightly into a ball.

"Damnit Xena! Pipe it down, it's too _early_!"

His heartfelt proclamation made Discord stumble through the insults she had been hurling his brother's way, while said God blinked, startled. He looked down at Joxer, before dragging his eyes towards his sister and broke down laughing helplessly.

"Xena! He thinks you're _Xena_!" The God of War howled with laughter as Discord stood there completely astonished, mouth agape as she tried to come up with a response to that.

The three Godlings present were laughing too, the mere idea of the comparison making them shake with unrestrained mirth as the now seething Goddess growled.

"Fuck you all!" And she was gone.

When hilarity had died down, the four Gods realized there was one scared-as-a-mouse mortal sitting among them, staring at them through wide, shaken eyes as he trembled. Phobos bit back a groan at the healthy dose of fear that seemed to practically ooze from the mortal's pores. Joxer took a very deep breath, and deciding that Ares was his best shot of surviving this whole mess, he looked rather shyly up at his God.

"I'm not exactly in my way to Athens anymore, am I?" He winced at his own croaky voice, but decided he had a right to be unsettled.

"He's gotta grip of the understandment, you gotta give him that." Strife mused with a grin, eyes scanning the half dressed Joxer.

Since he had been sleeping when he had been abruptly pulled up into the Hall of Judgment in Olympus (and not that he _knew_ where he was… yet), Joxer was lacking his trademark armor, instead wearing just plain brown leather worn down pants and a pale yellowish undershirt. His feet were bare and his hair was a mess resembling of a bird's nest, and he very well looked completely out of place among the pristine halls of the Olympian Hall.

"Indeed." Deimos said coldly, a flat stare falling in his eyes. His voice held a faint note of amusement that shone through his cold demeanor, causing his brothers slight surprise.

"Quite." Phobos agreed with a leer, the trademark pale blue eyes of his brothers narrowing in anticipation.

The God of Fear held rather exotic features when compared to his brothers; his hair, unlike Strife's black and Deimos' white, was a fiery red, spiked up and twisted, making his pale skin look a bit more healthier than his brothers'. He wore a black and red leather attire, held together by chain-like lace and metal clips that took right after his mother's, and an unhealthy collection of knives hidden in-between the folds of leather. He couldn't exactly say he liked what he was seeing, but damnit if he didn't just love what he was feeling, and wondered what else could he make the mortal feel. _Well, that ought to be good fun…_

Ares seemed to caught with his thoughts quickly, because he growled out loud, dark eyes narrowing considerably.

"Out!" The hissing order quickly shattered any pretense of cockiness the three young Gods had, because they scrambled out of the room in mere seconds. Ares groaned, rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead.

Joxer fidgeted nervously, opening his mouth several times to ask, but closing it tightly less than a second later. Ares looked livid, and he didn't need him to aggravate him more.

He really didn't fancy becoming a moving target for an irate God of War.

"I can be rational. I can. There's a sensible reason for this, Eris said so, I-" Finally letting his eyes fall on the nervous wreck that was Joxer, Ares took a deep breath. "You're in Olympus right now."

"I am? I mean, oh, er…" Joxer blinked startled, fumbling for the right thing to say. But really, what was the right thing to say at the moment? "Cool?"

"You have a talented tongue Joxer, you really do." Ares said dryly, giving the cowering mortal a flat stare. "Must be all this time around Xena's bard, really _impressive._"

"I'm sorry." The meek response made the God cringe inwardly. Had he not been defending this very mortal like one of his own just hours ago? Ares sighed.

"You're in a mess right now," Running a hand over his hair, the God of War looked over at his most faithful follower, and realized he really didn't want to give him up. Joxer tilted his head to the side unconsciously, looking at his God with an unshakeable devotion, silently urging him to continue, but not daring to demand so. "It's a long winded explanation, one I'm neither in the mood or peace of mind to tell you, but in short, you'll become a God soon."

Stunned silence.

"Joxer?"

More stunned silence, a weary sigh.

"I think I broke him… _Aphrodite_!"

* * *

There was once a King of Assassins.

Jett licked his lips, before he pulled them back in a maniatic grin, his white teeth glowing faintly in the dark room. He moved with the precision of a panther, stalking his prey in the wide bed of the room with an insane glint in his eyes. Advancing quietly over the sleeping woman in bed, he straddled her hips without touching her, then reached behind him, to a small, wet piece of cloth that was tucked into his leather pants, and quietly pressed the cloth to her face, so she breathed in the mix of herbs and poisons in it, being extremely careful not to wake her. Below him, he felt the body grow slack into full unconsciousness, and he allowed himself to relax slightly, before he pulled back to admire his creation.

Her golden hair was sprawled behind her, framing her face like flowing rivers of gold and her white skin seemed to glow with an ethereal beauty. She truly was a sight to behold, a woman worthy of Apollo's court.

He paid her, and her beauty, no heed.

Wrapping his hand in the foul smelling cloth that had drugged her, he reached out for the silver and golden dagger and his face contorted into another sinister grin. Eyeing the powerful weapon, he raised it, before sinking it into the woman's chest with one powerful strike, sinking the blade until it's hilt, the ruby in it matching the color of the blood that flowed from the injury and stained the pristine white sheets around the body.

He pulled back, his cloths clean, not a single drop of blood on them, as he admired his handy work, looking at it with a ting of pride. Chuckling one last time, he walked over to the window, and in an act of rather childish glee, knocked over a vase, alerting the guards in the corridor of his presence, but before any of them could eve reach the room, he was gone.

He hurried back to the nearby town he had been staying in, hoping to catch the thief and have a little _discussion_ with him.

Jett was amused.

* * *

"Think Pops'll let me play with him?" Phobos grinned, as he rubbed his hands together in a mischievous fashion. "I would certainly enjoy it."

The triplet Gods were thrown over carelessly in a richly furnished room, resting in comfortable mountains of leather pillows, looking pretty much like unruly children.

"I don't think he will." Deimos snorted, giving his brother and at times lover a very pointed look. "He's his favorite, remember? He'll probably tear us apart if we so much as look at him." Rolling his eyes mockingly, the albino hugged a crimson pillow to his chest, looking up to the scowling Strife. "So, _Iffy_, what does it feel to know you'll be Discord soon?" The dark haired God glared.

"Like hell, alright?" He narrowed his eyes dangerously, pondering the effectiveness of throwing one of his knives through Deimos skull, but figured the sadistic prick would actually enjoy it. "And don't call me that." His voice thickened with annoyance, and it caused Phobos to grin.

"Whoa there, big boy, you're going for Mom's high pinched screech, not Pops' brooding growl!" His laughter redoubled when a leather pillow was thrown his way, smacking him right in the forehead.

Another pillow flew, and suddenly war cries were given and a full-blown battle broke between them. The Children of Discord; Mischief, Pain and Fear, laughed contentedly, taking full advantage of this sudden calm time.

Laughing was certainly better than crying.

* * *

There was once a Goddess of Discord.

"You are upset." The voice was soft and filled with some unnamed emotion as the fierce Goddess flashed herself into her favorite temple in a shower of angry magenta sparks.

"Of course I am!" Dark eyes flashed dangerously as she looked at her lover, her husband, with a snarl. "I was the one who had to sit in front of the bloody council and lie through my teeth to them. I was the one who had to listen to Ares yell. I was the one who had to stand my children, our children, looking at me with centuries of resentment in their eyes!" She was seething now, her whole frame shaking with rightful indignation that was quickly turning into icy fury. The man before her remained silent and calm, as if he had been expecting her outburst. "I'm the one who's carrying your child." The last admission was uttered as a whisper, as the Goddess of Discord hugged herself tightly, trying to push away the warmth the other was sending her way, trying to glare at him.

He smiled softly, and it put her soul at ease.

"I know."

* * *

Joxer woke up with a groan, the sudden brightness of the room stinging against his abused eyes. Sitting up groggily, he quickly noticed he wasn't back at camp, but rather inside a marble room decorated in all shades of pink known to man (or God) and resting on a bed covered with fluffy, cloudlike pillows.

It didn't take a genius to figure out whose temple he was in.

"Joxie! You're up now!" Yep, definitely Aphrodite's breasts that were pressed against the side of his head. "Hades, we were _so_ worried!"

Trying to dislodge himself from the chocking hold and trying not to look at what he wasn't supposed to look at, Joxer pulled back with a beamy smile. Aphrodite was, right after Ares, his favorite deity, and against all odds, he really liked to spend time with her… even after all the mess she tend to do with his life every time they met. Something registered in his brain, but he didn't pay attention at it.

"Dunno why, 'Dite, though I did have the weirdest of dreams!" He laughed good naturedly, not quite registering the movement in the back of the room. "I was in this really cool hall and suddenly Ares and three guys that looked just like Strife but multicolored were there and he said I was in Olympus and… oh my." Ares had walked behind Aphrodite, giving the rambling mortal a very flat look that clearly said what he thought about the matter. Aphrodite actually looked rueful. "It wasn't," Joxer swallowed hard and looked at both Gods almost reluctantly. "It wasn't just a dream was it?"

"No dear."

"No."

"Thought so."

And he fainted again.

"You know," Ares mused with a wry twist of lips, looking down at his follower with a rather puzzled look. "He's taking this better than I thought he would."

"You could say that."

* * *

There was once an Amazon Bard.

Gabrielle liked stories. She loved to follow up a story and write it down, give it personality, and then tell it for the entertainment of others. The one thing she loved even more than stories were mysteries, solving them and understanding them, something she was unnaturally adept at doing.

However, as promising as this story, and it's adjacent mystery, were, she was not enjoying herself.

Joxer was missing, and there wasn't a clue to where he could be. No tracks, no note, no path, nothing. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.

She chose not to dwell on the fact she was worrying over a man she had, less than two days ago, scorned and insulted for his weak attempts to flatter her.

She didn't want to admit she felt guilty.

* * *

"But why me?" The distressed Joxer all but whined at the triplets, sitting in the backyard of the Halls of War, looking like a neglected child.

He was resting on an strategically placed rock in the middle of the yard, while the triplets laid back on the soft grass around him, all looking up at the sky with varying degrees of wistfulness.

"Beats me." Strife answered truthfully with a shrug, looking up at the mortal that was to become his successor with a wry grin. If anything, it would prove to be interesting.

"Look on the bright side," Deimos chirped in with an impish grin. "You'll now known as Joxer The Mighty… God of Mischief."

"I don't know…" The mortal frowned slightly, looking considerably less nervous now that he knew he wasn't going to be killed, maimed, tortured and/or blasted away. "What exactly does the God of Mischief _do_ anyway?" At Strife's mild scowl, he quickly rushed to explain. "Not that I'm saying you're non important, 'cause I'm not, but well, there isn't much known about you and really, I'd love to know and… and… I'm bloody rambling again, aren't I?"

"Yep." Phobos was amused, he really, really liked this mortal, he was rather entertaining.

"Yes." Deimos gave him a plain stare and a slight twitch of lips.

"Yeah, pretty much." Strife grinned, he _liked_ Joxer. Suddenly the thought of him taking his place as the God of Mischief didn't sound so bad. "And what I do, aside from the occasional joke and prank here and there, is to basically start a war."

"Isn't that Ares' job?" For once Joxer seemed to be interested in the matter at hand, looking down at the sprawled God of Mischief, blinking curiously.

"Actually, no. The House of War works together, makes things easy and smooth," Phobos piped in with a wry grin, then his eyes darkened slightly, and he seemed resentful. "And it keeps us in one piece." The last hissing thought was bitter, but Joxer wisely chose not to comment.

"You know, this whole teogony isn't my thing. House of War?"

"First comes Mischief," Deimos grinned wickedly, and Phobos caught up with him, chorusing in a sing-song mocking voice. "An innocent prank in the worst moment possible, and then arrives Pain, followed by Discord. Then mortals suffer, as Fear plays, until at last falls War."

"Lovely, a dinner with a show." Ares' voice rumbled as the triplet Gods laughed, Joxer feeling strangely intruding in their closeness.

They quickly fell silent and turned rather meekly to meet the rather amused (or as amused as Joxer had ever seen him) God of War. He was leaning against a white marble pillar, his trademark black leather attire contrasting wildly with the pristine whiteness of it. Almost the same way the Halls of War contrasted against the various temples scattered around Olympus. The dark God held a half eaten golden apple in a lax grip, raising an eyebrow at the picture the three gods and the god-to-be made. Phobos and Deimos, his 'sons', were considerably calm in the knowledge they hadn't done anything to infuriate him; Strife, his 'nephew' on the other hand, looked quite nervous and Ares made a mental note of checking out whatever foolishness the young God had come up with. Then there was Joxer, and Ares relish in the knowledge the mortal belonged to _him._ Devotion oozed off his pores, a quiet undercurrent of fear, terror, of disappointing his God in anyway. Silently soaking up in the quiet feelings, Ares shrugged non-chantally, motioning for the wide corridor of the temple, absently taking a bite of the apple, looking particularly harmless.

Or as harmless as a God of War could look, before he swallowed and shrugged again.

"Zeus is here." And without waiting for an answer, the turned and left, walking quite placidly through the length of the main corridor of the Halls of War.

It took the four occupants of the yard all but a second before they scrambled, surprisingly in a similar fashion, to follow the Head of the House of War. The Halls of War were the largest temple in Olympus, mostly because they were five temples placed together. The basic lay out was of a semi circle structure, five independent wings sharing a concentric, circular room and long corridors that connected them with each other. The widest corridor was the one that lead to the backyard, exactly the one where Ares and the said King of the Gods were talking quietly, the dark haired God taking his sweet time with his apple.

But Joxer, being Joxer, tripped as he was hurried into the hall, lost his footing and grabbed the first thing he could. Unfortunately, that happened to be Strife's vest, and with the momentum against him, Strife went down, squeaking like a bloody midget as he tried to hold onto something.

The blood red tapestry just happened to be in the proper place at the proper time.

"And you were saying he wasn't skilled enough?" Zeus asked with a smug smile as he watched his grandchildren sprawled and fighting to get from under the heavy cloth, while the mortal, Joxer he recalled, apologized profusely.

Ares sulked.

* * *

There was once a Brave Hero.

Hercules frowned. He had been on the road to Athens, as he had told Iolaus he would be, for about two days already, when Iphicles' herald had reached him, and he had immediately changed routes, going straight to Corinth, but sending the messenger directly to Athens, to fetch the Hunter.

At the thought of his blonde companion, a small smile pulled at his lips, and a pang of longing assaulted him, before his brother's worries settled back into his consciousness and his mood darkened again.

Lady Tamara of Thrace had been murdered on cold blood in a room of Iphicles' castle, and things did not bode well for him, if the murderer wasn't captured soon. A war with Ares' favored city would not be kind on the fragile peace and stability of Corinth, and of course, Hercules saw it as his own responsibility to ensure it wouldn't happen. Still, underneath his feverous need to help others, the nagging thought that he was messing with something he couldn't understand wouldn't leave him be.

And still Hercules was worried.

* * *

"But-"

"Oh give him _that_ one!"

"Seriously, I-"

"The red one, Pho, he'll look _edible_ in that one!"

"Hey - _EAK!_"

"Too tight?"

"Nah."

"Heh."

"Guys!"

Eris of Discord watched with amusement as her sons circled the poor mortal like vultures, snatching different pieces of leather and forcing them on the protesting God-to-be. When they were done, they presented their creation to her, looking almost as proud as Hestia was of her garden.

Poor mortal boy looked like a big chunk of meat stuffed in a leather package.

The dark haired goddess grinned evilly, thoughts running wildly with the possibilities set for the dark haired mortal, which was trying to convince Deimos to loosen up a little the choking leather band around his neck.

"Oh no, he's _mine_," The warning whisper came from behind her, making her turn around to face a rather feral God of War. "And you'll do well to remember so."

"Possessive much?" Arching an eyebrow in a familiar fashion, the Goddess of Discord rolled her eyes at his brother's antics. "Not my type anyway."

"Oh yes, idiots are never your type." Ares retorted acidly, giving his sister a rather unflattering look.

Discord would have retaliated, had the dark haired mortal man not let out a panicked squeak as Strife showed him a long needle. Joxer gave off a panicked whimper, still held by Phobos and Deimos, struggled for a minute, then fainted.

"You know, if I didn't know better I'd say that's his natural state."

* * *

There was once a God of Mischief.

Strife had learnt at a very young age to trust his instincts to survive in the hostile world that was Olympus. As a minor deity, and being taken away from his brothers, he quickly learnt to read people and their intentions in an instant, with the notable exceptions of his mother and his uncle. Ares and Eris were completely unreadable and so unpredictable, they were the only creatures in the universe that could keep him on his tiptoes at all times.

This time it was no exception.

"Is it wise?" Tilting his head to the side, he looked at his mother with a slight frown, not sure where the idea had come from, and in consideration to the seriousness of the situation, dropping his accent to speak normally.

"Yes. The fates declare it so." There was a strange glint in Discord's eyes, as if she knew something everyone else didn't, and it was making him nervous.

"Hn, as if they had ever done something good for us." The dark haired God sulked, looking away in resentment, knowing well that the reason he had been torn apart from his brothers had been, precisely, the Fates.

"They know better than us." Strife could be mistaken, but was his mother trying to sooth him? Eris looked at her hands, firmly wrapped around her lower stomach and thinned her lips. Then, she added. "I'm sorry Erin."

"Let's hope the Fates are as wise as they claim to be." Not wanting to acknowledge the apology, much less his given name, the dark haired God looked away, desperately sliding his eyes around the room, to everywhere but his mother's eyes. "Uncle will be pissed." Then he was gone in a shower of blue sparks, the weight of two broken hearts, his mother's and his own, falling on his back.

Erin of Mischief and Strife screwed his eyes and fisted his hands as he reappeared in his own temple, but his eyes remained dry.

* * *

Joxer took a deep breath. This was it, the big day, the final day. _The_ day. He looked over at the tall, double metal doors and let out his breath in a sigh. He suddenly felt really, really small, a whimper dying in his throat as he turned around, his intention being escape.

"Oh no, you're not." He hadn't expected Ares to be standing right behind him. Joxer mumbled something in-between a pathetic whimper against the leather clad chest and Ares arched an eyebrow in apparent amusement. "Well, no, but Zeus actually likes you, though Tartarus only knows why, so you have a real chance of surviving." Not precisely the most convincing comfort words ever uttered, but really the best of Ares capacity. Pushing him back slightly, he rested the large hands on the slim shoulders, eyes pinning down the God-to-be. "Now Joxer, can you act like a warrior for once, let go of my vest and walk into that room without making a fool of yourself?"

"No..." Ares growled loudly. "I mean _yes_!" That had been more of a squeak than anything else, but the War God seemed content enough, and pushed his reluctant follower through the wide doors into Zeus throne room.

He didn't really want to explore why he felt he was losing the best part of himself as Joxer scurried shyly towards the triplet Gods. Strife, Ares noted, was almost just as nervous as his soon-to-be successor.

Ares decided that as soon as Joxer was properly settled and the ceremony over, he was going to shove all his responsibilities into Athena's desk and flash away to have a nice vacation at the other side of the globe.

He heard there was a nice set of islands with active volcanoes somewhere beyond Chin, perfect for some sunbathing.

"Gods of Council," Zeus voice was a low rumble, not exactly furious, but calling to silence and attention. Joxer felt extremely self conscious under the unmasked stares he was receiving. He was no fool, he knew he wasn't welcome there. The Twelve stood, and Ares noted with a faint sense of pride that Joxer managed to stop trembling, his jaw clenching shut so tightly he could imagine the sound of the teeth cracking. He made a damn good impression of Jett then and there. "It has been decreed by the Fates, that the mortal known as Joxer, son of Jonas, follower and favorite worshiper to Ares, God of War, is to become the new God of Mischief. Any objections or demands are to be given now, or silenced for eternity." There was a minute or so of respectful silence, before Zeus continued. Joxer, though, felt the animosity roll off most of the Proud Gods like waves, but his mind had wrapped around a small piece of information he had caught hold of. _Favorite worshiper?_ The King of the Gods interrupted his musings. "Then so be it. Joxer, son of Jonas," The long table stretched before Zeus, to whose left and right sat his sons and daughters and his wife, all those ever powerful eyes settled on one mortal who was desperately trying not to be who he was. A golden goblet appeared before him, rubies and pearls encrusted in the solid gold into a lovely pattern. Inside, the dark red liquid, which could only be ambrosia, shimmered slightly with a glow of its own. "Do you accept the Title, the Blessing and the Name? Do you accept Responsibility and pledge to protect Olympus with your hand? To submit to the council judgment and follow our laws before your desire? Do you pledge to serve the House of Aggression under the wing of War? Joxer, son of Jonas, do you accept Mischief's Godhood and its implications?" The mortal bowed, brown hair obscuring his brow and hiding his eyes from view.

_No!_

"Yes, My Lord, I, who is not and will never be worthy enough, do."

His voice had remained hard, controlled, and his hands weren't shaking so badly as he took hold of the cup. He caught sight of his reflection in the dark liquid, and brought the rim to his lips, tasting the coppery, bitter substance.

Then, as soon as the sacred grail touched the imposing marble of the table again, everything turned dark.

* * *

There was once a God of War.

Ares sat on the throne of one of his most modest temples, far away from prying eyes and curious glances, and stared at the scrying mirror before him, a deep frown obscuring his features.

In the polished surface of the mirror he could clearly see Joxer and the triplets, turning the main hall of the House of War into a literal war zone with their feeble attempts at showing the new God how to deal with the very basics of his new powers. He let out a hiss of laughter as Phobos and Deimos threw themselves out of the way of a disproportionate fireball. Then smiled contently as Joxer stumbled to explain and apologize.

The dark haired mortal, _God_, his subconscious berated loudly, intrigued and puzzled him. Joxer had yet to stop his prayers for him, and his attitude hadn't changed from when he was a mortal. No power trip, no arrogance, no extras, simply Joxer in a situation he really didn't understand, and in serious need of support. Support that was being provided by the ever enthusiastic triplets and Aphrodite. Thinking back, even Eris had hurled a few insult coated tips to the new God, amusement somewhat transparent in her sulk face.

Ares just wished he could support him too, but as things were, he was just content to stay where he was, watching through his mirror and hoping for things he doubted would ever be.

Another wave of prayers tinged in the back of his mind, and upon noting who they came from, the God of War sighed.

* * *

Olympus boiled with renewed life. Ever since Joxer had received his new Godhood, the Olympians were never short on entertainment. Openly or not, the whole Pantheon was puzzling over their newest addition. Quite frankly, a being who had no hidden reasons to be polite, who didn't thought Godhood meant he was all powerful, who followed the rules and move aside for everyone was a novelty in a place where conflict and arrogance were the most common occurrence.

That, and Joxer had a natural talent to cause havoc.

No temple had been spared. The new God had an unnatural way of turning fairly innocent things into complete disaster, and worst part was, at least for the victims, that they couldn't really be mad at him, because it was clear as daylight he wasn't doing it on purpose. And he had the damn best whipped puppy eyes any of them had ever seen.

At the moment, and after Artemis had threatened to fire ball him out of her temple screaming bloody murder at him for scaring her pets, he was sulkily reading some ancient scrolls and archaic books. Reading about Gods and Goddess and their interaction with humanity through the centuries. All in all, it was a pretty interesting way of telling human history, from the immortal's point of view.

Athena was in the great temple too, but Joxer had scurried out of her way silently, not wanting to disrupt her work or cause her ire over him, or worse, give her a reason to start another fight with Ares. Shaking his head from bleak thoughts, and completely ignorant of the calculating stare he was being subject to, he read on, avidly learning about the past as if it were one big epic, like those Gabrielle liked to write about Xena. He was getting to when Artemis and Apollo had been born, when he found a long, beautiful peacock feather tucked into the parchment. He wrapped his fingers around the soft feather, feeling it under his fingertips, delighting in the brightness of its colors…

_Then_ Phobos slammed an armful of dusty scrolls right in front of the unsuspecting mortal-turned-deity, and he started a chain reaction that would have made Strife cry with glee.

Joxer sneezed, and due his current lack of control, flashed away every time he did so. One second he was in front of a smirking Fear God, the next standing amidst Artemis' reconstructed temple.

Hestia looked up from the long parchment that contained the petitions for her and blinked startled as the apparition arrived suddenly, sneezed and disappeared.

Hephaestus stopped mid strike on a mighty sword he was making for Hercules' upcoming birthday, looking with a risen eyebrow at the stumbling Godling.

Apollo paused mid-song to give Joxer a perplexed look, the muses crying out in surprise at his sudden appearance, and even more sudden exit.

Hades and Persephone had been millimeters apart from kissing when a loud shower of blue and white sparks presented them the newest God on Olympus. He didn't even look at them, his eyes closed tightly, his hands on his nose, before he let out a rather loud sneeze and disappeared just as swiftly.

Finally he appeared into a breath taking garden… at the edge of a breath taking pound, and ended up soaked in the breath taking water. He squeaked in fright.

_Then_ he noticed the perplexed look the Goddess of Childbirth and Marriage was giving him, a basket of seeds in her right hand, pristine emerald gown, silver crown over her red locks and a dozen peacocks at her feet, looking at the newcomer with guarded curiosity.

All color fled from his face as the Queen of the Gods gave him a risen eyebrow.

"And what exactly," Hera started in a soft, controlled voice, noting with some melancholy the panic in the youth's eyes. "Are you doing here?"

Joxer squeaked, and somehow managed _not_ to faint.

* * *

There was once a Goddess of Marriage.

Hera looked at the pale, soaked young God with a certain sense of curiosity. He was afraid, yes, but not of her or what she could do to him, he was afraid of upsetting or intruding in her privacy. To say the Queen of the Gods was intrigued would be a rude crime of understanding.

Still, and not quite sure of what had possessed her to do so, she dried his cloths with a casual wave of hand, motioning him to follow her towards her favorite bench in the garden, right under her prized tree. The dark haired male had been doubtful and nervous, and in the end had opted for sitting in the grass next to her flowing dress, so as to show respect.

Hera smiled.

"You used to pray to me when you were a child." The shoulders tensed, and Joxer fixed his gaze in the distance, not wanting to remember. Hera looked down at her hands, folded neatly over the basket. "I did what I thought best."

"Then Milady did the best that could have been done." A hand came to caress his head, long, elegant fingers touching the stubborn strands of dark brown hair, and Joxer unconsciously leaned into her touch.

"I'm not so sure, I never could decide," Hera's voice held a note of wry amusement as she recalled his prayers.

The image of a small seven year old sneaking into her temple in Corinth, curled into a small ball in one of the alcoves as he waited for the temple to be empty. And then the child would square his shoulders, walk quietly to the main altar, and pray feverously in a contradicting way. He didn't know what he pray for, or what exactly he wanted, all he knew is that Hera was a Mother, and as such she would know best.

The Queen of the Gods had never been sure she had, had, not when concerning that particular family.

"Someday you asked me to make her birth painless, others, that your mother would have a miscarriage. You managed to confuse even the Goddess of Childbirth with your prayer, Child." Hera noted he was shaking, trying to keep himself from crying as the memories assaulted him. "I'm sorry Joxer, but even the Gods can be mistaken."

And he did cry, pulling his knees against his chest, his face hidden from view.

"My little sister… mother took it all out on Jayce. Said the Gods were angry at us for his… his perversion… and I… Zeus, I _agreed_ with her! I lost a sister to Hades and a brother to my own stupid words in a day…"

They sat, a regretful Goddess of Childbirth, and a heartbroken God of Mischief, alone with their thoughts and their angst.

And Hera wept.

* * *

"You ready, Jox?" Erin poked his head into the young God's room, adjacent to his own and smirked as the dark haired ex-mortal hid himself under the covers.

"No, but I don't have a choice either, do I?" Joxer groaned as the new God of Discord snickered, then squeaked indignantly as all covers were so roughly taken from him.

Scrambling to cover himself, he ended up face first on the marble floor.

"_Strife!_"

"Nope, that's you now, tough guy." Erin grinned devilishly as Joxer summoned some cloths, then laughed at the sulk when he transfigurated them into the, by then, usual leather attire.

"Must you _always_ do that?" Joxer picked himself from the floor, rubbing his elbow furiously and glaring slightly at the very amused God before him. "I _can_ dress myself on my own you know."

"Nah, you have the dress sense of a color blinded chameleon." An arm was thrown over his shoulders, pulling the reluctant dark eyed man to him. His eyes glinted wildly as he looked down at him. "Nice ass, by the way."

Joxer wasn't entirely sure what Erin meant, but he knew he had been insulted. Instead of throwing back a comment, though, he flushed scarlet and tried, unsuccessfully to scape Erin's hold.

One look at Ares' face though, and both scrambled to their posts around the wide table, though for clearly different reasons. Joxer was afraid he had upset or annoyed his God in any way. Erin knew he had been caught red-handed.

"What took you so damn long?" Ares was in a foul mood, and it showed.

Erin winced slightly, and Phobos and Deimos threw him sympathetic looks. Joxer held back a whimper.

"I… sorry. I'm a late sleeper, it won't happen again." Even to his own ears it sounded like a really foul excuse, but Ares seemed to let it slip.

"Whatever." The indifferent tone made Joxer wince minutely, but War saw it, and he swore inwardly. "This is a map of Corinth as it is right now. Demeter sent her report last week, and after a long deliberation, we've decided to cut her some slack from here, rather than from Athens, which would put 'Thena in a mood, and which we don't need to deal with at the moment." His eyes bore into Joxer's, making the young God feel like a mouse. "Congratulations Joxer, your first work is homecoming."

Something cracked within him at those words, memories of his now frequent talks with the Queen of the Gods assaulting him and making him bite back the need to cry.

Ares felt it, and hated himself for it.

* * *

There was once a Renowned Hunter.

Iolaus listened patiently to Gabrielle's ramblings on the Joxer tragedy, that by now included no little amount of hags, dragons and one or two infuriated Gods. He looked over at Xena, and found her watching ahead of her, eyes glinting with amusement, lips twisted into a smirk. He sighed.

He could see the gears twisting inside her mind though, the blue eyes glinting with the possible outcomes of their precarious situation. And against all odds, saw a little spark of thrill in the azure deeps. Xena, at some subconscious level, still relish in the thought of War.

Walking towards Corinth, heart out towards Hercules, mind occupied with Gabrielle's groundless suspicions and Xena's strange looks, Iolaus wondered if there wasn't a God or two involved in this.

He sighed again.

* * *

"You're trembling." Jett mused with a smirk, looking down at the man in his bed, eyes glinting somewhat madly. Autolycus scowled.

"I'd like to see _you_ calm and about, tied up to bed, the biggest psychopath this side of the country with a knife in hand." He spat the words, carefully omitting the 'and stark naked' bits.

Bits which were taking a keen interest in Jett's equally interested bits.

"The continent, my dear thief, the continent." The dark eyed man leaned closer and Auto's breath hitched inwardly. "But we already know that, don't we?"

"Yesss…" It was a hiss more than a word, a breathy whisper in which he submitted to the other's will.

Unseen by either of them, Erin watched as his chosen target went about business with a decidedly sadistic streak, and a torturous slow pace. He saw they had been making a good profit from the rather nice paid they had received from the anonymous patron who had contracted them. It just felt fitting that his last job as Strife was performed through them.

And as the Kings With No Land coupled, a God watched, and wistfully hoped.

* * *

There was once a Goddess of Love.

Aphrodite appeared in the Halls of War in a shower of pink sparks, all bouncy and happy and flower-like as usual. She contrasted grossly with the sober, dark decorations of the Halls, but she didn't care. She needed to find Ares, that randy warlord of his was completely screwing a carefully set plot of hers.

Not to mention a carefully trained priestess.

Walking around the main corridor, she finally caught sounds of heavy breathing and Ares' low voice rumbling softly and her heart gave a twist. _Joxie and Ares! Yes! Cupid'll owe me his wings for this…_ without a thought of consideration, she opened the room, pretending to be ignorant of the sounds and quickly noting it was Ares' private quarters.

Oh, Joxer and Ares were in bed alright, but not exactly as she would have expected. Ares gave her a very, very dark and pointed glare, and all delight fled Aphrodite's face.

"The worship flood?" She whispered quietly, looking down at the young God sprawled over Ares' ample bed, a thin sheet of sweat covering his skin, shuddering and moaning lowly.

He was practically clawing at Ares' hand, but the older God didn't seem to mind.

"Yes." Pain, torture, agony beyond words were all diluted into that word, a hissing whisper that cut through the room like acid.

Ares glared and Aphrodite flashed away.

"I'm sorry…" Joxer mumbled in his restlessness, body convulsing with the tidal waves of pleasure that came from the prayers and the spikes of pain that accompanied each time someone spoke ill of his Godhood.

How had Strife lived with that for so many centuries? Furthermore, did all Gods feel the same? All the time?

"Just the first time we truly accept our Godhood." Ares' voice held a soft, rumbling quality to it that soothed Joxer's distress somewhat. "You'll be fine once the first wave is over. Then it's just a dull throbbing in the back of your mind. You'll learn to ignore it in time."

"Have you…" He was cut short by a gasp, and he moaned at the sparks of pleasure that flared up his spine. Taking a shuddering breath, Joxer opened his eyes all but a slit, looking at his God with a tint of curiosity. "Have you ever ignored me?"

The God of War was stunned into silence, looking taken aback at his most loyal follower, his personal favorite, with a mix of shock and nervousness. _Yes… no… you can't be ignored… you amuse me… I missed you… I'm always watching… I…_

But Joxer was unconscious when Ares breathed his answer, curling into bed next to the trembling God.

"Never."

And unknown to them, the Goddess of Love smiled sincerely for the first time in nearly half a century.

* * *

"There you are!" Joxer whirled around as the shower of sparks faded, leaving one amused God of Discord in place. Erin fixed those unnerving pale eyes on him, running them up and down before he snorted. "You look like shit." Joxer opened his mouth to retort, then closed it and shrugged.

"I… yeah, I suppose." His voice was slightly lower than usual, and the dark eyes, Erin noted, were somewhat veiled by an unnamed emotion.

He chose to remain silent.

The two Gods watched the banquet in silence. It was the first major work of the House of War after Joxer became a God, and everyone, particularly Erin, had worked hard to make it good.

Erin.

The former God of Mischief still shuddered when he was called by given name, and yet, everyone was making a conscious effort to ensure he remembered his new 'identity' as Discord. He figured he would get used to it soon, or at least, he hoped so. Last time Ares had billowed for Strife, both, he and Joxer had flashed in, and the War God had been so amused, he forgot what he was calling him in for in the first place. Unknown to him, a slight scowl started to pull his features as his thoughts progressed, now completely ignorant of what was going on in the hall.

"Hades, was I ever so… _vain_?" The disgusted question broke the blue eyed God from his thoughts, and he turned around to face Joxer. "I mean, are all humans so… so…" The dark eyed God sighed in frustration as he couldn't find the word.

"Annoying? Petty? Self-centered? Insignificant?" Erin was quite willing to fill in the blanks, his own uneasiness with the situation showing.

"_Naïve._"

"See? Now you're starting to see why Unc likes you." Erin smiled somewhat sincerely, eyes alight with mirth. Joxer shrugged.

"I'm under the notion Gods have a strange taste."

Erin laughed until his sides hurt, and with a last wave, he left Joxer alone to do his work.

Discord was too amused to work properly.

* * *

There was once a King of Corinth.

Iphicles sat uncomfortably on his throne, watching the festivities with a thinly veiled worry and increasing anxiousness. Tamara's murderer had yet to be found, and as if tensions weren't high enough in the room, little incidents had been occurring at an alarming rate were starting to irritate even the most patient men in the room.

The King was worried.

Then there was a slight ripping of reality somewhere, as if a God was arriving or leaving, silently, and he shuddered inwardly, not knowing what it was, but knowing it'd be bad. He watched as Yohainus, Athens' main ambassador, took another long gulp of scented wine, talking with someone at his right, eyes glinting and lips twisting into a disgusted line.

He was probably trashing someone's reputation to dust with his words.

Iphicles was about to suggest a subtle change of subject when it happened. Yohainus chocked on his wine, his hands going instinctively to wrap around his throat, and he shook with fright as he glowed in an unholy light. And Iphicles knew he had been trashing the wrong person, as it had infuriated a God…

And then Yohainus died in an utmost spectacular way.

* * *

Joxer flashed into the main room of the Halls of War, his face pale and his body trembling with an irrational sense of dread and disgust. His breath raised and fell erratically, his mind too wrapped in the horrible scene he had witnessed, he had _caused_, to understand properly where he was. The white and pale blue sparkles that had followed his wake were still flashing brightly, unfocused and slightly blurred. He shivered within the confines of all the stupid leather the triplets were always imposing on him, suddenly chilled to the bone.

"Jox?" Erin came into the room with a frown over his features, pale blue eyes darkened with worry. "Joxer? You ok?" His voice got an octave higher than intended as the shivering and half comatose God of Mischief looked over at him with big, wide, empty brown eyes. "Uncle!"

Ares had been busy going through some war plans, silently delighting himself with Joxer's job in Corinth. The subtle workings, the invisible threads that held the conspiracy together, the absolute chaos the discovery had caused… Ares was content.

And then he heard the pleading, almost panicking note in his nephew's voice as he cried out for him from the security of the Halls of War, and something in his gut told him the very God he had been so fondly thinking off was the cause of Erin's, Discord's, sudden angst.

"_Ares!_" But even before his sister's enraged howl was over, Ares, God of War, was gone, nervous red sparks left in his wake.

Athena was left seething into empty space in Ares' temple in Sparta, her eyes flashing with irritation, with a growl, she followed her brother, intent on finding that little God-wanna-be and teach him a lesson about messing with her ambassadors. Growling out loud, she disappeared in a flash of orange and red sparks.

What both had not expected was to find a completely puzzled Erin looking at an empty spot in the wide hall as if it held the answers of the universe within it. Discord looked up at his Uncle and his Aunt, eyes confused.

"He said he didn't mean to. Didn't mean to what?" The dark haired God bit his lip self consciously. "I shouldn't have left him alone… he's too young, too naïve… He was crying Unc', I haven't seen anyone cry like that since Bliss accidentally killed one of Grandma's peacocks…"

"Erin? Where's Joxer?" Ares spoke quietly and tentatively, something Athena noticed right away, surprised that the God of War would be so worried over some bothersome mortal.

Her fury had somehow dulled into a throbbing annoyance at Erin's face though. She didn't like him when he had been Strife, he didn't like him now he was Discord, but never before had she seen such a miserable and puzzled expression in his face. Reflecting for a moment, she thought practically that perhaps 'that bothersome mortal' had done her a favor, considering who had died, and it all pointed that he hadn't done it to spite her, as she had concluded the first time, but out of lack of self control. Something within her reminded her of Troy, and she held back the need to flinch. The Goddess of Just War and Wisdom knew first hand what lack of self control could do, and the repercussions that it could bring to an unprepared soul. The memory of the shy God in the Archives told her all she needed to know about that unprepared soul.

"He accidentally killed one of my ambassadors in Corinth." The Goddess answered before Discord could figure out how to explain things to his uncle.

"What!" That had been a squeak and a growl from the Gods before her, and she shrugged non-chantally.

"_That_ was what I was trying to tell you, _brother dearest_, before you flashed away." She gave both men a risen eyebrow, daring them to comment. "I thought he did it on purpose, now, I can't be sure."

"Joxer wouldn't kill a fly!" Discord jumped in the defense of the rather peaceful God in earnest, surprising both adult Gods slightly, Erin generally valued his hide enough to shut up in the face of older and stronger Gods.

"I did not order such thing." Ares told Athena with a risen eyebrow, hiding the small smile his nephew's words had caused. "And Erin is indeed right. Joxer, Hades only knows why, values mortal life above everything else. He plans his work carefully to ensure no one dies or gets hurt beyond necessary. He's even more meticulous about that than Erin himself."

"I didn't say he did it on purpose, or so I believe _accidental_ means. I just didn't realize it was your favorite pet who had done it, only that it came from either Strife or Discord. His signature is still hazy, though not unreadable. I just knew it came from the House of War." That was, quite possibly, the closest thing to an apology either God had ever heard from the proud Goddess' mouth, but it was ignored in favor of finding the missing God. "Where is he now? I need to talk to him." She filed away the tensing of Ares' spine as she spoke, and gave them a risen eyebrow. "It is clear he has no self control, he needs training. Training that only the House of Intellect can grant. I want to talk to him, and ensure this won't ever happen again."

"He just… poof'd away." Erin answered after a long moment, looking doubtfully at his aunt. "No idea where he went, suggestions?"

Ares frowned, trying to come up with a place Joxer would run to in his distress and came up with nothing. Athena's presence was bothering him, as if she was defiling his home with her mere breath. Like weed in a garden… _Wait, garden, that's it!_

"Mother's garden." He hadn't even finished breathing the words, and he was gone, followed by two startled Gods, who couldn't figure out what was going on.

* * *

There was once a Goddess of Wisdom.

"And… and… He _exploded_, Milady, into pieces, in front of a room full of people. There were _children_ there… _his_ children… I… I'm a murderer!" The lithe frame shook with powerful sobs as the young God allowed himself to cry, tears spilling from his eyes as he wept.

The elegant fingers buried themselves into his hair, soothing him with the gentle touch of the Queen of the Gods as she listened to his sorrows as if they were those of her children. Looking down with loving in her eyes, she realized he was one of them, and the realization didn't bother her as much as she would have expected.

"Shh, Little One, you didn't mean it, it wasn't your fault…" Her voice was softer, a cooing sound only her children, and the children of her children ever had the pleasure to hear.

And that was precisely how Athena, Ares and Erin found them; Hera sitting in her favorite bench, her emerald green gown falling to the soft carpet of grass, her hands soothingly running over the soft hair of the young God, her favored pets, her peacocks, glancing curiously around them, their voices a soft squeaking sound, trying to soothe the one who had so tenderly treated them before.

"Athena will kill me for this… he… he… he was _hers_!... Oh, Milady, Ares will get the blame for this, and… I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry…"

And Joxer, thrown in the grass, crying helplessly against the knees of the Queen of the Gods, his whole frame shaking under the strain of his heart clenching sobs. Not even Athena could stay unmoved by the source of sorrow the young God was. It was raw guilt and self disgust, not a single trace of smugness or lies in his words.

"When… when he calms down," The Goddess of Wisdom cursed as her voice wavered slightly. Emotions were not her element, and yet, this man broadcasted his own so powerfully she would be surprised if someone in Olympus wasn't feeling it. Shaking her head slightly, Athena gave his brother a leveled look. "Take him to me. This must be cleared, and he needs training to control himself." She couldn't hold back the sneer or the snide remark, eyes darkening as she glared at the Prince of the Gods. "Seems the House of War has forgotten how to properly deal with a new God. I pity Eris' unborn son."

And she was gone.

* * *

"Play the lire for me."

The hand which was petting the peacock's head stilled for a moment, dark brown eyes looking up at the Queen of the Gods in silent inquiry.

"Play the lire for me." She repeated, the strangely colored irises fixing on him with a heavy stare, yet it was not imposing, and it struck Joxer as somewhat a childish quirk.

"I do not have my lire with me, Milady… and surely, Godly ears would be insulted by my rude attempts." When had he mastered polite talking to a God? When had he become the utter example of civility? When had he stopped tripping over his own feet in the presence of an authority or power? "Music is just another of the fields not meant for me."

The day Yohainus had been killed.

"You play well enough," Hera countered softly, the long fingers caressing his stubborn hair with a familiar touch. "I used to listen to you when you were a child."

The day _he_ had killed Yohainus.

"Alright then, if it will please you, Milady, it'll be so."

The day Athena had taken him away and implanted all those codes and ideas into his mind.

The lire was conjured carelessly, and so was it played. It was simple chuck of wood, nothing remarkable about it, but Hera was well aware that Joxer's abilities had skyrocketed since the incident back in Corinth. Athena, truthfully, had taken a great part in such development, but as days turned into weeks, and weeks in months, the Queen of the Gods knew a little more of that clumsy, adorable mortal died with each lesson, and that icy, thoughtful young man took it's place.

The day he let her.

The notes were neither sorrowful, nor they were cheerful, _so much like the player that is painful_, the Queen of the Gods told herself as she watched the fingers touch the strings, which glowed softly in the mid afternoon sun. Dull would be the best to describe it, both music and musician, filling the space, the duty, but not really _being_ there.

"How was your latest mission? Ares seemed truly delighted with it." The casual comment received a badly hidden flinch as an answer and a small faltering in the music.

_Hades, were his eyes always that hollow?_

"I suppose it went well then," The music restarted, dullness at it's prime. "Haven't really been told much. Pho and Dei spend most of their time down with Thanatos, and it would certainly be rude to go and bother Ares, or worse yet, Eris, with some petty issue."

There was a moment of flagbastered silence from the Goddess as the lire became the only sound in the eerily silent garden. When had Joxer become such a… _such a what? Athena's been training with him, has she not? Of course he's changed… because neither you, nor the others could do a thing to help him, that's why._ Guilt swelled within her heart, and those dark and gloom looks from the inhabitants of the Halls of War suddenly fell into place. _Oh Joxer, do you not see how many souls have you cleaned in your short stay? How many Gods would give you the world and Olympus for you to smile that goofy grin once more?_

"Do you not go to these missions too?" She asked instead, her voice betraying none of the musings in her mind, the cracks in a heart she had thought long dead.

"A God who can't control himself should not be allowed out of Olympus. Ever." He repeated the lesson easily, the words falling to his tongue with a startling familiarity.

"A Strife that can't smile… _that_ is something to hold a Council about."

Hera chided softly, and stood with a graceful movement, the long sky-blue she wore whispering quietly over the grass as she stalked away, not bothering to look back at the God sitting carelessly on the grass, her favorite pets, her beloved peacocks, scattered around him as he fixed those horribly empty brown eyes on her retreating back.

And yet the music, dull and unwelcoming, continued.

* * *

There was once a God of Light and Beauty.

Apollo flashed quietly into view, lips twisting slightly at the sight that welcomed him to Hera's garden. The youngest God in Olympus was still playing the lire, not masterfully, but not so horribly Apollo would feel the need to leave. It was rather good, in a strange, queer, saddening way. The Sun God suddenly felt dull and shadowed as the tune flowed over him, shaking the depths of his own mind, his own heart.

_How can a single being feel so strongly?_

He had seen the incident in the Halls of Time, as had all the Pantheon when the changes in the other time clumsy Strife become palpable. Not the worst, but certainly some remarkable way of dying. Still, the God of Light couldn't figure out why someone would angst over it so ferverently, everyone killed so remorselessly in Olympus…

"I have a work for you." He called as greeting, a little part of himself satisfied when the notes faltered and the brown eyes fixed on him with surprise. "Time to work Strife." Apollo convinced himself he felt no remorse as Joxer's eyes darkened, instead flashing them both to his temple in Olympus.

He never thought he'd miss the awed tone the ex mortal's voice.

* * *

"Oh, sorry."

Ares frowned as his former follower whirled around and tried to leave. The image of a large, scared brown mouse pop into his mind, but he dismissed it once he caught sight of the pained dark eyes.

"Joxer," He was well aware of his somewhat trembling voice, which lacked the familiar thunder within, but he truly didn't care. The God of Mischief paused momentarily, a hand resting on a pillar in an almost natural gesture. "Sit with me."

The movement was slow at first, then with a strange sense of gracefulness Joxer slid down, sitting quietly on the steps below Ares' throne, completely ignoring the other seats in the room. War felt the strange urge to cry out bloody murder.

Something had hurt this God, this man, who never stop praying to him, who looked up at him with adoration untainted by greed. Who never expected anything in return for his attentions, and who evoked the deepest of feelings in the dark God. A man that was so broken now that it made Ares' heart clench painfully.

"Apollo wants me to stir up some minor trouble in Delphos. I'm not sure of what I should do." It was a quiet admission, not unlike the resent prayers Ares had been receiving. Thoughtful, structural.

It was like listening to Athena talk through him.

"Delphos is his own, he can do with it what he wants, and if he asks you to, you should do as he says." The bearded God frowned slightly. "Personally if possible." Joxer shuddered but tried to mask it. Ares pretended not to notice the shaking of the slim shoulders.

"I'd prefer not to." When had he started combing the unruly locks of hair? Ares' didn't know, and he wouldn't have noticed he was doing so, had Joxer not leaned to the touch ever so slightly.

"And if I ordered you to?" That was cruel, using his moral and Godly authority to force the man to do something he didn't want to, but curiosity nipped at him to find out just how deep did Joxer's faith went.

He should have expected the answer.

"If my Lord wishes so, then so be it." But the ex-mortal had pulled away from the strangely intimate gesture, and before Ares could answer, Joxer was gone.

He had not expected the new crack in his heart, and the disappointment at the loss of touch.

* * *

There was once a Talented Dancer.

Jayce finished his routine with a flourish bow, and the attendance clapped enthusiastically. A few lascivious comments he dutifully ignored, some fake smiles, gentle waves and he was gone through the door, back into the ante chamber, where his fellow dancers were preparing themselves.

"Oh Jaycee, you're so graceful!" One of the girls cooed him with a big hug, and he grinned back, returning the gesture amiably.

"So are you, lovely… now go, it's your turn, and we don't want to disappoint anyone tonight!"

The dancers left laughing, and once he was sure they'd be gone for a while, he let himself fell heavily on a near by pillow, his sore feet protesting the harsh rhythm of work in the late weeks.

"But a spot in a Delphos' festival's worth it," He told himself with a wry grin as he massaged his feet, eyes somewhat downcast. "It always is…"

Unknown to him, there was a shivering mess of nerves, regret and pain hidden from view in a corner of the room, watching the brightly dressed man with a sorrowful longing.

"Jay? You here, love?" A golden haired head popped through the door, soft blue eyes lighting up brightly as they caught sight of the dancer.

"I should thinks so, Ob, this throbbing guys keep saying so!" As he laughed delightedly, he wiggled his toes for the blond man to see, grinning widely.

Ob and Jayce laughed, before melting into a soft, but intimate embrace. Joxer wanted to cry. He clenched his fists until twenty perfect half moons bled in his palms, and bit his lips until the coppery taste of his own blood filled his tongue, and yet… Yet there he was.

The Fates disliked him, hated him even. For the man he was to play foul at, was none other than the brother he had casted away in a childish grudge over the corpse of a soul that already rested in Elysium, and to whom his words had stung like poisoned arrows more times than it was fair.

Because he had killed an innocent in Corinth less than eight moons prior, but he had killed his own brother fifteen winters before then, with heated words and tearstained cheeks.

And so Mischief disappeared in a flash of unseen light, and the Dancer and his lover laughed, unaware of the world beyond each other's warmth.

* * *

"Drink." Joxer looked up from his folded arms into a pair of the most exotic blue he had ever seen, a breath taking quality to their electrifying color.

Joxer smiled thinly as the stinging scent of alcohol hit his nostrils, trying in vain to stop himself from flinching at it's roughness.

"Alcohol poisoning, Dei?" His tone was distant, but he took the goblet none the less.

"You look like something Cerberus munched and spat on the Stinx's side." The pale haired God said flatly, letting himself fall heavily on the chair besides Joxer's.

"So glad to hear I still top your standards…" The dry line was finished with a shudder as the acid liquid threaded fire down the dark eyed God's throat, his stomach clenching in revulsion.

Deimos snorted.

"Actually, I need you to get drunk so I can talk you into doing me a favor." The white haired God admitted with a shrugged when half the goblet had been emptied.

"So honest, my heart is out with you Deimos, it really is." Joxer's mood hadn't improved, as Pain would have wanted, instead, he was now depressed, irritated and half pissed off.

"I need you to baby-sit Bliss." Joxer choked on the foul drink, coughing it up wildly as he ended up with his ass on the floor.

"_What!_"

"Thanks, Jox… owe you one!" And doing a fairly convincing imitation of Strife, and thus terrifying image, Deimos grinned and waved, disappearing in a flash of silver sparks to parts unknown.

Joxer groaned, dropping his head on his hands.

* * *

There was once a God of Love.

Cupid flashed into the Halls of War with a testy scowl on his otherwise handsome face. He wasn't entirely sure leaving Bliss in Deimos hands was wise, he rather liked his cousin and would feel rather bad if Pain ended up dead, but he and Psyche were going through a rocky times in their relationship and they _needed_ time alone.

The God of Love knew he didn't look good in green.

"Hey Cupe."

The winged God whirled around to find Joxer sitting on the steps of the Temple of Discord, a dusty scroll balancing precariously on his knees and a wry smile at his face. Cupid took note of the leathers that were tightly wrapped around the other-time mortal, not entirely liking the effect, though he had to admit they looked rather good on him. Not excessively built as Ares or himself, Joxer was rather slim and lithe, which added to his patented armor, it ended up making him seem lanky. Now, with the new cloths, which Cupid was sure had been imposed on him against his will, and the well practiced serene look Athena had instigated in him, he looked like another man, completely different from the stumbling fool that had blown half of Artemis' temple while trying to master his own power.

"Joxer." He smiled sincerely at Mischief, though he was still watching him with scrutiny, trying to see if those changes were for real, or worse, if they were permanent. "What are you doing here, I thought Poll had a work for you?"

The flinch was repressed in time, but Cupid read the intention, and held back a slight frown.

"I'm trying to come up with something for him, no luck here though." He shrugged dismissingly, but the other male noted the slight shaking of his hands. It disappeared behind a mildly rueful smile though. "And, well, Deimos asked me to baby-sit Bliss for you… said he had _someone_ to do." Shuddering again at the possibilities, Cupid felt his own feathers ruffle somewhat at the thought, knowing well his cousin's tastes.

He wondered if Thanatos was still sore.

But in retrospective, now it made sense that Deimos had actually _offered_ to do the work. Joxer would certainly benefit from Bliss' influence, and Cupid knew he loved children, so things should go fine.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" He grinned widely, trying to kill the doubts in the other man's eyes with his resolution.

"You sure? I'm don't think I'm quite capable to deal with a child… less of them a Godly one…"

"Nonsense." Cupid waved dismissingly, and snap his fingers, a shower of golden sparks revealing a giggling six year old child with fluffy white wings on his back. Bliss threw himself at his father's neck, his wings unfolding fully. "You and Bliss have fun, ok?" And he was gone, leaving Bliss hovering a few feet away from a dumbstruck Strife.

Love was laughing rather loudly when he reached his temple.

* * *

Hera flashed into the Halls of War, eyes fixed on the bored looking God sitting at the throne. She rarely came here anymore. Her son was repulsed by her, and considered her little more than an occasional ally against Hercules. Her daughter despised and blamed her for all the misunderstandings that existed around her. And she really didn't want to go into the matters with her grandsons. But today she had a purpose, and nothing was going to stop her. It rang within her, the knowledge of a potential union, of something out of myth.

She was surprised Aphrodite or Cupid hadn't jumped at the chance right away.

"Mother." The dark eyes of the God of War fell on hers with an innate distrust.

It wasn't like they hated each other, not really… but decades of misunderstandings, mistrust and treachery tend to leave things tense between mother and son, and this time was no different.

"Ares." She had to be careful, very, very careful, or things would ruin themselves before they had the slightless chance to grow. "Where is Strife?" Ares stiffened.

"_Joxer_ isn't here right now." He gave her a guarded look. "Went to Delphos to work on Apollo's assignment. Bliss' with him."

"Go to him." The God of War arched both of his eyebrows as he looked at his Mother with a somewhat disbelieving look.

The fact he had been considering that option himself was thoroughfully ignored.

"And why would I waste my time like that?" The rhetoric acid of the question made the queen of the Gods resist the urge to hiss.

"Because you were planning to, anyway," She smirked knowingly, flashing away already. "And because you know he needs you there."

Ares stared at the empty spaced before him, before he left, muttering a few choice swearwords under his breath.

* * *

There was once a God of Happiness.

Joxer stood frozen in place as a mud fight ensured, he had tried to figured out a way to start a small riot, when his brother had presented his act, and he had been mesmerized by the stylish movements and the graceful dancing.

Bliss hadn't been so interested in the dance though, and as soon as Jayce and company were done, the small winged God had planted the seeds of conflict so well, Erin would be proud of him. Thankfully, it had stopped raining already, but people were still deep in their fight, Bliss watching everything from above, giggling excitedly.

Seeing a fair amount of mud speeding his way, Joxer threw himself to the side, forgetting he was invisible and intangible, doing it so out of habit. There was a fateful sound of mud slapping against leather, a grunt and a familiar growl. Joxer paled.

"This is _not_ what I had in mind, when I decided to come here." The dark God looked over at the trembling ex-mortal, and repressed the need to wince. Instead, he turned intangible as well, thankful that the mortals were so occupied to notice his sudden appearance and disappearance.

"Sorry!" The squeaky answer only made him roll his eyes as he lifted a hand to assess the damage done to his favorite leathers.

"Heh, colors!"

Both looked upwards to see the giggling Godling throw his hands upwards, thousands of bright, colorful sparkles raining on the startled fighters. Everything stilled as the show of light made a wave of happiness and friendliness fall over them, lifting their spirits easily. Even against himself, Ares felt himself smiling slightly.

"He'll be a great God one day." Joxer, who was still sitting on a puddle of mud, nodded with a small, somewhat wistful smile. "So will you." There was suddenly a tense silence, as the ex-mortal looked down, not daring to contradict his God out loud, but his demeanor clearly marking what he thought about it. Ares chuckled, nervously, not sure why he hated the passiveness in Joxer. "I think mud doesn't look good on me, does it?"

Blinking, Mischief grinned shyly, taking in the mud covered appearance and shrugging slightly.

"Not really." He let out a small laugh, somewhat strained by anxiousness, and was rewarded a brief smile. "Thank you for not getting angry with them, Lord."

"They're important for you, are they not?" Tilting his head to the side, Ares' dark eyes smoldered somewhat as Joxer nodded, casting his eyes to the ground and his dirty hands. "Then they're important to me."

They fell silent then, watching Bliss play small, inoffensive pranks on the unsuspecting mortals. Ares sat on one of the boulders that circled the arena where the performance took place, and Joxer slid next to him, at his feet. Bliss watched as his Grandpa Ares started to run his fingers through Joxer's hair, their expressions lost, and wondered. Moments later, he could swear Strife was about to cry, before both flashed away, leaving him alone amidst the chaos he had unleashed.

"Let's go home, Little One, Mom's worried about you." Turning around, the dark thoughts disappeared as he attached himself to his dad.

As he arrived home, Bliss thought that perhaps Joxer needed a bit of his charm.

* * *

"JOXER!"

The enraged billow had it's desired effect when in a flash of white and blue sparks, the God of Mischief appeared into Eris' private chambers within the Halls of War, scrambling to see if she was fine.

The former Goddess of Discord was thrown carelessly in her bed, absently running her hands over her flat belly, dark brown eyes flashing irritably at the stumbling God before her.

"You bellowed?" The ex-mortal grinned lopsidedly, well aware of how much he resembled Strife when he wanted to. His eyes were warm though, and he looked like someone who was enjoying a particular task.

"Very funny, Mr. Wiseass," Eris rolled her eyes at him in a petty manner, and waved a perfectly manicured hand dismissingly. "We want pork on chocolate sauce for dinner."

Joxer stared, and stared some more at her.

"What?"

"Oh, that's right… you haven't been outside Greece yet have you? Mm, never mind, tell one of my idiot sons to explain what I'm talking about and get it for dinner, ok?" She grinned maliciously. "I'd hate to gut you and then have you to clean your own insides off the floor right now."

Joxer paled, opened his mouth to answer, but instead closed it and shuddered visibly.

"Yes Ma'am."

Eris smiled brightly, doing a black haired copy of Aphrodite.

"Good boy!"

* * *

There was once a God of Fear.

"You know pal, they've got you whipped, the lot of them." Phobos said amicably as he and Joxer appeared into a jungle, the other side of world, completely mindless of the scenery. "Mom and Pops particularly."

"I know, I know… _grow a backbone_, you and St- sorry, you and Erin are always going on at the same thing." The dark eyed God shrugged, dodging a whipping branch Phobos had unknowingly thrown his way, but tripping unceremoniously with a callous root from a nearby tree. "Oof."

"Mostly because we're right about it…" He turned and waited patiently for the newest God on Olympus to get back to his feet and dust the leather attire, before continuing speaking. "And I mean, sure, you made a little screw up, but it's high time you get back on track… when was the last time you made a job personally instead of planting seeds from afar?"

"It wasn't just _a little screw up_, Pho, I killed a man." Joxer's voice turned quiet, eyes falling to the floor in aggravation.

"Oh, big fucking deal, a mortal died." The God of Fear shrugged dismissingly. "Thanatos does it all the time, and you don't see _him_ angsting over it for months."

"Thanatos wasn't born a mortal."

Phobos stopped. That voice had been hard and bitter, something completely alien when coming from the clumsy God of Mischief, and it made him frown as he turned to face him.

"You haven't gotten over it yet, have you?" The question was more politeness than anything else, the redhead looking at the shivering new God wearily.

"Should I?"

Deimos would have said yes with a deadpan, and Erin would probably said something crude and insulting against Joxer's intelligence for even doubting him. Fortunately, for both, Phobos was neither.

"Look, that's the plant mom was talking about."

Joxer smiled gratefully at the change of topic, and Phobos felt strangely warmth by it.

Fear was confused.

* * *

"What are you laughing about?" Ares sat on the bed, watching curiously as Joxer laughed quietly, eyes distant.

"Silly mortal stuff." He shrugged, and as he turned, Ares saw the glimmering tears threatening to spill from his eyes. With a rough rub, Mischief tried to hide them, not daring to meet his God's eyes. "It's nothing."

War felt awkward. He was never good dealing with emotions, not his own, much less others, but the broken man before him evoked a sense of possessiveness that scared him. Not entirely sure of what had possessed him to do it, he climbed in bed, pulling the unresisting Joxer against him, his back to his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. It felt good, despite the fact he felt he was imposing himself once again on someone. Joxer said nothing, at let himself be held, his breath coming out in shuddering blows.

"Why didn't you stop praying to me?" The question was a whisper in the silence of the room, and the body in his grip tensed impossibly.

"Do you want me to?" Daring a glance upwards, Mischief tried to hide the fact he was seconds away from braking down as the weak, crying idiot he really was in front of one of the only people whose opinion still mattered to him.

"No, I just… figured you would." Not looking at the brown eyes that held so much emotion it was unfair, Ares fixed his gaze far away. "Psyche did."

"I'm not like her." Wincing as the words left his lips, he shivered. "I mean-"

"I know," Ares sighed. "Tell me."

"Nothing important… just…" He let out a listless laugh, shivering from a chill that came from inside. "Today's the first time I'll spend my birthday alone."

"Oh."

Really, what else could he say? When had been the last time he had bothered about something so trivial as to celebrate the day he had been born? Ares looked down at Joxer with a thoughtful look, not sure what to do.

"You're not alone." He said finally, tightening his hold slightly, so as to prove his point, but not sure why he felt the need to sooth the mortal. He cared for his own, as they were his responsibility, but this… this seemed just too much, and at the same time, not nearly enough.

The God of War felt strangely welcome and touch as Joxer's lithe frame shook with grief, but he said nothing. Sometimes, he figured, was better just to go with the flow.

"I should go now." Joxer mused quietly, but not making any move to leave the comfort of his god's embrace. "I'm sure there are better people fit for the job." Ares didn't answer, he tightened the hold, and did something he had never do before. He prayed.

Joxer cried in gratitude until he fell asleep.

* * *

There was once a Rogue God.

Within the confines of an endless void, a spark of consciousness, the desire for revenge, a being that craved destruction, He awoke. Everything in reality screamed within as the force of destruction let itself out, his intent clear, consuming everything and everyone, but specially those who had defied him. Mortals could wait, but the Gods who had dared cast him away, those who were foolish enough to believe they could escape the screaming rage within him, those were doomed.

Dahok set himself to consume Olympus.

The halls of War were a fortress on their own, and all the minor Gods went into hiding there. Eris screamed in frustration when Ares shoved her into her own quarters, and sealed her inside. The triplets paced around in distressed, half affronted, half concerned about the situation. Joxer tried to keep the Godlings calm. Bliss hug him tightly, his wings shaking as he cried out for his parents.

Mischief worried.

Something in him had awoken as Dahok invaded Olympus. It cracked and then wailed within for something he didn't quite understand. He felt an inner pull, and as he lulled Bliss into sleep, he realized it was the connection Strife had with War that was pulsing with something, calling him to act, but how, he didn't know.

The attack had taken the Gods by surprise. They weren't exactly a peaceful lot, sure, but no one had ever thought it possible, Olympus being attack directly. Dahok was a whirlwind of power that burnt down everything it touched. Two Wind Gods had died, swept into the maelstrom of dark energy that screamed and kicked and just… _consumed_.

The elder and more powerful Gods had gathered and gone to confront it, to expel it, but something in the way Ares had forcefully told Joxer to keep an eye on things made him feel things were wrong. The feeling that he was in the wrong place intensified, it was the same pull he felt when Strife was needed, but stronger and different and frighteningly new in it's desperation.

Suddenly, the worse came to worst as a searing pain swept through those aligned with the House of Aggression, the searing sensation of the bond with War being torn away. Screams broke through the halls, one voice calling stronger than the rest, because God and Follower were being torn away from the only security they had left, and then Joxer was no more.

* * *

There was once a God of Peace.

Olympus was in ashes. Everything Dahok touched, it was consumed. The Rogue God was a whirlwind of dark, pulsing energy, hissing and taunting them as it consumed their home and humiliated them in their helplessness.

Ares swallowed hard when he realized what was needed to do, and surprised the rest when he did so without a second thought. The formless amount of red light that was War in its true form threw itself against Dahok, enveloping it into itself, containing.

He was going to destroy them both from the inside out.

Already he could feel himself dissolving back to the elements, his ties with those of his kin slowly being severed one by one, pain searing, blinding, numbing. Above them all, Ares felt one bond kicking and screaming to remain, holding him back in place desperately, with a strength that awed and frightened him. Joxer was praying to him to stop. He could faintly hear the screams of his Mother, brought out of her arrogance at the prospect of losing her child, the panic-coated insults from his brothers and sisters, their cries for him to desist. And it was there, in the total chaos of voices and emotions, that War realized his family did not want to give him up, and he doubled his efforts in that knowledge, certain he wasn't going down in vain.

A pillar of white and light blue light broke from the Halls of War, and as it raced towards the battlefield in a tidal, a God in a rampage, the blue tint of Strife's Godhood returning to its rightful owner, Discord's own reaching for the screaming woman hidden away in the depths of her own temple. The wine colored aura fit within its owner, and the dark haired woman sat back, waiting. The flood of old power felt strangely soothing to Erin, and he realized his mother had known, all of her actions and request fitting back into place, like pieces in a puzzle.

It was a flow of energy of such proportions, but in such a calm, peaceful way, those that saw it come, expected a resigned destruction and were faced with a gentle touch of Peace. Of a known and unknown mind sweeping through them and going to cover the struggle between the Rogue and War, the light blinding away the dark and red energies within.

Then there was silence.

The screaming rage, the wailing pain, it all stopped. Dahok evaporated back into the elements, quietly, ending unlike he had existed, in peace. White and Red touched and soothed each other for a moment, before two well known Gods appeared standing before each other. Joxer was shaking, his face pale shaken and his eyes fixed unnervingly on him.

"I-" And he couldn't say much, because the ex-mortal fell heavily against him, his legs giving away.

Cradling him in a uncharacteristically gentle fashion, the God of War let his eyes wonder towards the thunderstruck Pantheon next to them, the same question in their features.

"It all is as it should be." The voice of Moira echoed in the wasteland that was Olympus, startling the nerve-wracked Gods further. "The Pantheon is a whole, as we give back The Silencer, a God of Peace."

The tension broke away when Joxer looked up at War with such a wistful expression it brought a small smile in the rough God's features.

"Ares?" When the darker eyes fixed on his, Joxer grinned faintly. "Does that mean I can start dressing on my own now?"

_

* * *

(A/N) Phew, that was long, eh? Comments, questions, suggestions, flames and general feedback welcome, exceptional useful criticism rewarded. Onto the notes:_

- Yes, Discord's lover is yet to be revealed.  
- Yes, Joxer is the new God of Peace.  
- Yes, all those random appearances have a purpose.  
- Yes, I made Hera something more than a vicious, murdering bitch.  
- Yes, Ares and Joxer will get together. Someday.  
- Yes, this is the end of this fic, look out for the sequel "As Good As It Gets: Godly Matters."  
-On Discord's pregnancy, according to my own personal interpretation, Gods are beings of pure energy that chose a physical appearance. Given their bodies are nothing but show, they can choose how to alter them accordingly. ((Which means when Strife and company decided to give Joxer an earring the old fashionable way, it was mostly out of spite than anything else)). Following that line of thought, if a God or Goddess is pregnant, it'd mean they are housing and nourishing a second spirit within them, but they can choose whether or not it'd show in their physical representation. Hope that clears a few things.

Thanks to those who helped with the creative process: Clover, Dark-Star, Drama Queen, Alexis, HBT, Mongol. You people are awesome!

This story (series) was spawned from a challenge issued in a random RP session by Dark-Star, about 6 years ago, written down, then disposed off and until recently hidden away in the confines of my hard drive. It was rewritten and edited to fit the requirements… so it's a bit late XD

Requirements for the Ares/Joxer Challenge:  
- God of Peace.  
- Delphos.  
- Traumatic Killing.  
- Motherly Hera.  
- Joxer in leather against his will.  
- Discord pregnant.  
- A God giving up his/her Godhood.

I think I did it, ne? Now review!


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